(I just serendipitiously found this post which I wrote almost five years ago–one of my very first posts ever. Unfortunately, I’m not sure it’s indicative of much growth . . . and yet, it was funny to me to relive this memory.)
Yesterday was hectic. My eldest was dragging his feet a bit about his schoolwork, and we hadn’t made his costume yet for the Youth Group contest to be held last night. I’d just been made aware that we were having a life group leader’s meeting before church, which is 40 minutes away. So at 4:15, he’s pleading with me that he’s finally done. I’d told him he had to be finished by 4, but relented. Aaaakkk! So now I had to drive to WalMart to find brown material *on sale* for his costume, as well as something that could be made in 30 minutes or less for their potluck.
I found the material just fine (at $1 a yard, no less!!) as well as a length of rope and some thin chain for a necklace. He’d decided to be a “chipmunk”, only a chip-monk instead–wearing a monk’s costume and carrying a container of chips. Cute, mmm? Decided to buy fabric fuse-stuff that you iron on instead of sewing the robe’s sides together, to save time. Someone at the register says, “You’re making costumes? What a good mom.” I laugh and tell them maybe not, since I’m supposed to leave my house in 45 minutes and haven’t actually *made* the costumes yet. Raced home.
Got home to find that ds had invited a friend whom we were supposed to pick up. I say we can’t or I won’t make it to my meeting. Everyone is crabby about this development. Kids start working on brown-sugar/cinnamon bacon twists for the potluck. They have no clue how to do it, so dh tries to help while carrying around the littlest, who is cranky. “How many teaspoons of cinnamon?” “Do we twist it before or after?” I cut out the pattern, take it to the ironing board, and . . .the fusible web doesn’t fuse. Take out my sewing machine, which I haven’t used in quite awhile . . .and the bobbin is missing, and I don’t know where it is. And we have 15 minutes before we’re supposed to leave if I’m going to make it to my meeting. I decide to forget about the meeting, call the friend and tell him we’ll pick him up after all since my plans are shot, and throw a bit of a pity party as I’m hunting down a needle so I can HANDSEW this stupid costume while we drive to church. Kids get out to the truck as I gather up the pieces of costume and rush out, realizing that I haven’t a) brushed my hair, b) changed out of my comfy clothes of the day or c) applied new deodorant or makeup since 8:30 am.
I’m not a happy camper. But my son really does look cute, the costume fits (oh happy day!) and though he doesn’t win the contest, they had a great time. I ended up bouncing my daughter around in the back of the choir practice room because she won’t stay in the nursery, and on the way home she cries so hysterically that I end up with her riding on my lap (I know, I know–but I’ve already lost the ‘good mom of the year’ title today, anyway, so I don’t care!!)
And I wonder . . .will I ever get what *I* want? Will it ever be about me?
So I fuss to God a little. And I accidentally run across a book I read last year by Tommy Tenney (title is escaping me and I’m running out of time on the computer) that was about how worshipping God changes your perspective. I need a new perspective! How good it is to know that He hears me even when I’m not talking. This morning I’ve been reminded that if things don’t look good from where I’m at, I can lift my hands to my Daddy and say “Pick me up! I need a better view! I need to see my life from where you are, because it doesn’t look good from down here right now!” Or in the very persuasive wording of my youngest (did you notice that she got everything she wanted yesterday?) “AAAARRRGGGGGWWWAAAAHHHHH!!!”
I think He likes it when I do that.